


Glass Angels

by AkashaTheKitty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Mystery, Post-Hogwarts, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 23:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17110445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkashaTheKitty/pseuds/AkashaTheKitty
Summary: One cold winter day Draco experiences every parent's greatest fear - his child disappears right before his very eyes. His memories of events are twisted beyond recognition and they have to work hard to find the truth. And then it all comes crashing down...





	Glass Angels

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Twistmas](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Twistmas) collection. 



> Prompt: Cutting down a tree.
> 
> Thanks a multimillion to my alphas [Torigingerfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/torigingerfox/pseuds/torigingerfox) and [Maloreiy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maloreiy/pseuds/Maloreiy). Without them I wouldn't have much faith in my ability to do this.

A deafening crash sounded and Draco shot up, eyes wild and heart pounding.

What the..?

A moment he was completely disoriented, unaware of where he was or what was going on. Slowly he recognised his bedroom, where he'd fallen asleep in his armchair while attempting a book. Then he remembered the sound, and his blood froze.

He jumped to his feet and ran to his son's room, heaviness settling in his chest.

Just in front of the door, he thought better of it. Scorpius, like himself, was a light sleeper. Carefully he opened the door just enough to skim the room.

Nothing was amiss. Everything looked to be completely in order.

Softly, he closed the door again.

Draco tried to calm down, but he still felt bewildered and panicked. Taking a few deep breaths, he began searching the second floor for any evidence of where the crash had come from.

Nothing.

He went down the stairs and crossed the carpet in the middle of the spacious main hall to reach the living rooms and kitchen. His steps crunched a bit and he reminded himself that it was time for a bit of cleaning.

He found nothing untoward.

It must've all been a dream.

There were enough things to worry about without adding nightmares to it.

Sighing, he went back upstairs and once more settled into his armchair with his book. Sleep was a rare commodity these days, and he wouldn't get more of it tonight.

 

***

 

Darkness had already settled over the landscape though it wasn't yet five o´clock. Draco had been staring out the window as the last light disappeared and now nothing was left except his own mirror image and the translucent image of his son seated in a comfy chair behind him, reading.

The silence stretched. The last one to speak had been Draco and that had been almost an hour ago.

He worried. His son was only eight, but since his mother's passing a few months ago, he'd withdrawn more and more into himself. He didn't laugh, didn't play, never spoke. Nothing seemed to give the child joy any longer.

Draco knew he was no substitute for the boy's mother, but it still hurt and frustrated him that there seemed no way for him to reach him.

With a sigh, Draco turned around to look directly at his son. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

The boy shrugged.

"Do you want some biscuits?"

No reaction.

"Scorpius. Look at me when I'm talking to you."

The boy slowly raised his head to look at Draco. The look in his eyes broke Draco's heart. It seemed... empty.

"We've talked about this. You need to eat."

The boy merely stared.

Draco's heart broke all over again.

Masking his pain, he put on an air of false cheer. "What do you say we go cut down a tree? It's about high time, don't you think? Put that book down and let's go."

 

***

 

The snow crunched under Draco's feet as he led the way followed by his ghostly son. It was cold, much colder than in surrounding areas. In an attempt to boost the holiday cheer, Draco had made it snow. Naturally it hadn't worked. Instead of merely being miserable, they were now both cold and miserable.

And tired. So tired. Draco couldn't remember ever being this exhausted. His vision kept blurring and the world felt both jagged and fuzzy around the edges.

Yet he forged on. He had to. For his son.

They walked for a while, getting deeper and deeper into the woods. Draco had cast a lighting spell a while ago, but it didn't do much to illuminate their surroundings. It didn't matter. As long as they could see where they walked, they'd be fine.

Draco was so preoccupied with walking that he forgot to even look at the trees they passed. At this point it hardly even mattered to him. He just had to keep moving forward, because he couldn't bear to stop.

Suddenly he entered a clearing, and in the middle of it was a beautiful old pine, bathed in moonlight.

"What do you say, Scorpius?" Draco asked.

He didn't wait for the boy to reply but went over to survey the tree and how best to approach it. Finding a good angle, he cut off the branches at the bottom, cut a wedge on the side he wanted it to fall to, and then made a few light chops to get started, followed by deeper, stronger swings.

"Daddy!" he suddenly heard.

He blinked and looked up. "Scorpius?"

"Daddy, look!" Scorpius was reaching for something high on the tree.

"No, Scorpius get away from there! It's dangerous! It's going to fall!"

Scorpius ignored him and as if in slow motion, Draco saw the tree toppling towards his son. Frantically he tried to grab for it, to stop it, but to no avail. In a flash of light, Scorpius was triumphantly holding a glass angel. He beamed at Draco and then faded, the tree falling where he'd stood only a second earlier.

"Scorpius!" Draco called, dropping his axe and looking wildly around. "Scorpius! Where did you go? Yell so I can hear you!"

The forest was as eerily silent as ever.

"SCORPIUS!"

Nothing. He was all alone.

 

***

 

Beside himself with worry, Draco searched the area for hours, and then his home and other surrounding areas. When he finally had to admit to himself that this likely wasn't a case of involuntary Disapparition, it was already the middle of the night.

Since he could only think of one person that could possibly help, that's where he went. He pounded on his door until his fists ached and shouted until he was hoarse.

It was only a few minutes, but it felt like forever.

Finally lights came on and _he_ opened the door. Behind him Draco heard hushed voices, a woman calming her children and telling them to go back to sleep.

Harry Potter had evidently been asleep, his hair was pointing every which way and he was squinting at Draco from behind crooked glasses while still in the progress of closing his dressing gown over his pyjamas.

Draco braced himself for anger, but apparently even half-asleep Potter was able to detect the panic and urgency in Draco's demeanour and merely gave him an expectant look.

"It's my son," Draco forced out through his raw throat. "He's... he's gone."

 

***

 

The near eternal darkness was reluctantly giving way to a few hours of grey not-so-dark. Draco was pacing impatiently a few feet away from the gathered Aurors. They'd made him take them to where he'd last seen Scorpius and then they'd put a man on him to keep him away from the immediate area.

It was maddening. He wanted to know what was going on. But instead of letting him know what they found or what they thought, they kept asking him the same questions over and over again. Why had they come here? Why so late? How had his son disappeared.? Why hadn't he contacted the authorities immediately? Who else had known that they'd been here? Was he certain he wasn't leaving anything out, anything at all?

He was about to snap when Potter detached himself from the other Aurors and came up to him. "Bear with it, Malfoy," he said. "I know you're out of your mind with worry, but we're only doing our job."

Draco gritted his teeth and nodded. He didn't have any other way of getting his son back, so this had to work. It had to.

Potter patted his arm and motioned for him to follow. They walked around the Aurors in a half circle and stopped within view of the prone tree he had felled last night.

The beautiful pine.

Only, today it wasn't the pine Draco remembered. It was crooked, its trunk was thin and the branches were few and far between. He'd tried to explain the difference, but they'd just given each other a knowing look.

'"It could've been a glamour," he muttered to no one in particular. "Someone could've set up a trap..."

Harry nodded. "We're leaving no stone unturned."

Draco nodded and gazed towards the base of the tree where two Aurors were crouching and examining the ground. They looked familiar. He squinted his tired eyes and realised they were Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

He almost laughed with the irony of the three of them being the ones to search for his son.

Granger looked up and spotted him. Brushing off her hands, she got to her feet and walked over. Weasley followed.

"Malfoy," she said by way of greeting with a curt nod. "This is the tree you meant to take home?"

He grimaced. "It really looked different."

Weasley shook his head. "We don't care about that. We were simply wondering why you chose to manually use an axe?"

"Ah. Impervious."

"Excuse me?" Granger said, notepad out.

"Impervious. The whole forest is impervious to magic."

"I see." Granger jotted down this new information.

"Wouldn't you still be able to magically control tools?" Weasley pressed.

Draco shook his head. "Over the years the forest has only become more resistant to any attempts at magic near it. Frankly, it feels... wrong to even be here. Can't you sense it?"

Potter raised his head and closed his eyes. For a moment, the only sounds were the mutterings of the other Aurors. Slowly he lowered his head again and looked straight at his friends. "Can you hear it?"

They both looked at him quizzically, but then something slowly seemed to dawn on Granger's face. "Silence."

Potter nodded. "No birds, no rustling, nothing. Only us."

Weasley shuddered. "Well, I have what I need, so I'm out of here. See you back at the offices." He waved at the others and Disapparated.

An ominous _whoosh_ went through the forest.

Potter and Granger stared at each other, eyes wide, for a moment until Potter cleared his throat. "Tell the others that from now on we only Disapparate outside these woods."

Granger nodded and rushed over to her colleagues.

"All right, Malfoy," Potter said. "Care to join me for a chat down at the Ministry?"

"It's more than a chat, isn't it?"

Potter shrugged. "So far you're all we've got, and you want to find your boy, don't you?"

 

***

 

Draco stared at the clock as the hands were slowly, so slowly, moving. One minute. Two minutes. Six minutes. His vision blurred, his eyes too dry to be able to focus properly for any length of time.

Apart from the clock, the walls were bare and windowless. The only furniture in the room was one desk and two chairs, where Draco occupied one.

Eight minutes.

The door opened and Potter entered with some papers and a couple of mugs of steaming hot coffee in hand.

"Sorry it took so long," Potter said, handing one mug to Draco. "I had to receive a report first. I made it as quick as I could."

"Eight minutes," Draco muttered.

"Eight..?" Potter looked confused.

Draco pointed to the clock, but then frowned. The hands were in the wrong places. Somehow more time had passed. He shrugged.

"Malfoy..." Potter said with real concern in his voice. "When was the last time you slept?"

Draco stared off. "You mean for the whole night?"

Potter nodded.

Draco shrugged again. "Does it matter?"

"I know that it doesn't seem relevant, but you need to answer all my questions."

Draco sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "How am I supposed to sleep? I lost the love of my life only a few months ago, and I'm somehow supposed to keep everything together for our son. Our son who, mind you, has made no sign of recovering from the loss of his mother."

"That sounds exhausting."

"It is."

"Do you resent him for it?"

"Resent..? He's a child, Potter. Just what are you insinuating?"

"I'm only asking questions."

"No, I don't resent him. I wish I could make him happy again. I do everything I can, but nothing is enough. All he wants is his mother and I can't... I can't be her."

"So how is he reacting to that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Has he disappeared before?"

"You think he disappeared on his own?"

"It's not unthinkable. I've seen stranger accidental magic. Maybe he was frightened by the falling tree."

Draco slowly nodded. He'd had the same thought. Except... "I cannot think of anywhere he'd go that I didn't search."

"If it's all the same to you..." Potter took out a document, put it in front of Draco and handed him a quill. "We'd like permission to search all of your property."

"I wasn't aware you'd need permission for that."

"It's faster that way."

Draco sighed and nodded again, taking the quill from Potter's hand. "Just don't break anything."

Potter didn't reply but merely gathered the document and left the room once more.

Draco returned to watch the hands on the clock move in their jagged dance.

 

***

 

Potter was back, escorted by a dour looking woman with a bulky bag and a chair in tow, and carrying another mug. He quietly put it down in front of Draco and then sat down across from him. The woman sat off to the side and pulled some knitting from her bag.

"Who's that?" Draco asked, nodding in her general direction.

"Never mind her. She's just an observer."

"An observer?"

"We have to make sure your rights are maintained. It's for your protection."

"Oh. All right."

"Let us know if you need anything else, Malfoy. Food, tea, a place to nap..."

"I'll sleep when my son is back, thanks." Draco took a swig from the mug.

Potter watched him expectantly. "How's the coffee?"

"It's fine."

Potter slowly nodded. "How long have you been this sleep deprived?"

"What do you mean?"

"I gave you hot water."

Draco blinked and stared at his mug. Then he frowned. "What's the meaning with this trickery, Potter?"

"To establish your worth as an eyewitness."

"Just because I'm a bit distracted--"

"It's not just this. It's also the tree, and..."

"And what?"

Potter sighed. "We'll get to that. Let's talk about your forest first."

"What about it?"

"It's an interesting choice to use such powerful magic to protect several acres of land that you hardly use for anything."

"I didn't make that choice."

"Then who did?"

"My great grandfather, as I recall."

"He must've loved nature."

"I couldn't tell you. All I was told was that he kept accidentally burning it down, so in the end he hired someone to make it impervious."

"He kept... accidentally..."

"He liked his experiments. Bit of a madman, really, but we owe a great deal of our fortune to him."

"Right. Moving on. We tested the forest's resistance to magic."

A ghost of a smirk formed on Draco's face. "I told you nothing would bite."

"Not only that, but magic seems to largely be thrown back at the caster."

That was news to Draco. "Then I suppose I'd be well-advised not to try to set the forest on fire."

"Not with magic, no. Similarly, we wouldn't recommend magically controlling tools to cut the trees."

"Noted."

"It is also impossible to put glamours on the trees."

If Draco had had the mental faculties left for it, he would've been startled. As it was, however, he could only say, "Ah."

"Would you like to tell me again about that night?"

"You think I lied before?"

Potter motioned at Draco's mug. "No. I think you misremembered. I'd like you to make an effort to remember it better this time."

"I-I already told you everything exactly as it happened. We were going to get a tree, Scorpius and I. Perhaps I didn't see the tree as clearly as I thought, but Scorpius reached up to touch it and then he disappeared before my very eyes."

Potter nodded, but there was a change in him. His jaw was clenching. Or perhaps he'd been like this all along. Draco wasn't sure. Things seemed to shift a lot lately.

"There are a few problems with that, actually," Potter said, his voice losing its gentleness. "For instance, you already had a tree, why would you need another?"

"I had--?" Draco didn't understand. Something was pulling at his mind, but his thoughts were a whirl and he was afraid to be pulled into the vortex.

"You had a tree. A fully decorated one. But then you discarded it, why?"

Everything came crashing down with a deafening sound.

 

***

 

_With a long wave of his wand Draco put the last decorations in place. Their home now looked like an advertisement for holiday cheer, but it was all on the surface. There was no joy behind it, no warmth. It was as hollow as their hearts._

_The big, beautiful tree dominated the main hall, swallowing the carpet beneath it and forcing people to go around it, but it was exactly the kind of tree Astoria would have loved._

_Once more Draco had to remind himself that things would get better, they had to. Some day they would be less broken and this would be but a distant memory of a time best forgotten._

_He bent to pick up the now empty box to put it aside, when he noticed something glinting at the bottom._

_Oh. Right._

_His own grief that he tried to keep a tight rein on resurfaced as he saw the delicate angel cradled in its silk pillow. Astoria's most treasured decoration. Carefully he picked it up. It was no bigger than the palm of his hand and made of gold-infused glass. It was centuries old and impervious to magic, so if it broke it would be gone for good. Like its owner._

_Carefully he reached up and set it on one of the top branches of the big tree, making sure to secure it._

_There was a choked sound behind him and he turned to see Scorpius stare at the angel with his eyes huge in his head._

_"That way she's with us, don't you think?" Draco asked._

_His son didn't respond, merely stared a moment longer and then turned around and walked off._

_Draco sighed. "Well, Astoria," he muttered, "I'm sad to say that this is actually the most I've heard him say in weeks."_

 

***

 

Draco started when Potter slammed his palms down on the table.

"Do you want to find your son or not?" Potter asked, a steely quality to his voice that Draco had never heard before.

"I-I... I think I forgot..." Draco frowned. How could he have forgotten putting up and decorating the tree?

"Forgot or suppressed?"

What a strange question. "There's no notable difference, is there?"

"Malfoy, let's not play games. Each minute wasted on this is a minute where we're not saving your son. If he can be saved."

"Just what are you saying?"

"Did you hurt him?" The question was mercilessly delivered.

"Of course not!"

"Are you _sure_ of that?"

"Yes!"

"Just like you were sure that you didn't have a tree?" Another merciless question. This was probably what made Potter a successful Auror, but it still stung.

"I forgot, OK?" Draco was aware that the level of his voice had risen and he was practically shouting by now, but somehow he needed to make Potter understand.

Then came the coup de grace, "Is there a chance that you _forgot_ you hurt your son?"

"NO!" Draco jumped to his feet and immediately a shield was put between him and Potter.

The 'observer' had her wand out and her eyes never wavered from Draco.

"So that's what she's really here for?" Draco grated. "For _your_ protection?"

"She's protecting the both of us."

"But mostly you, right?"

"Malfoy..."

"That's fair. I want to strangle you right now. But I would _never_ hurt Scorpius, do you hear me? Never! I would sooner spend eternity on fire than harm a single hair on his head. He is everything to me!"

"All right, all right. Let's calm down again." Suddenly friendly and concerned Potter was back.

Draco realised he'd been tested.

He slowly sat down. "I came to you for help. _You_. And it wasn't even difficult, because I knew you were my best bet of getting my son back."

"I understand. But you know I had to ask."

"Can't you ask something else?" Now that Draco's anger had left him, he suddenly felt more drained than before.

"All right. Tell me about the tree you already had."

"I don't understand. It wasn't there."

"That much is correct," Potter assured him. "You'd disposed of it."

"Why would I do that?"

"Why indeed."

 

***

 

"There's another inconsistency we have to address, if you're up to it," Potter said after Draco had been supplied with some fresh--and this time real--coffee and a snack he hadn't touched.

"What is it?"

"When you went to cut down the tree... where was your son?"

"Right behind me."

"The whole time?"

"Yes."

Potter sighed and took off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "Malfoy..."

A sense of foreboding coursed through Draco. "No."

Potter nodded. "There was only one set of footprints. No evidence whatsoever that your son accompanied you."

"But that's impossible."

"Is it?"

"I clearly _saw_ him, I _talked_ to him, I... what is this? Are you trying to make me look mad?"

"I assure you I have no interest in that."

" _He was there._ "

"But was he really?" Potter put his glasses back on and leant forward. "Malfoy, your memory is clearly playing a lot of tricks on you."

"I'm not mad."

"You're grieving for your wife, sleep-deprived, and worried sick about your son. Anyone would be a little mad from all that."

"I wouldn't harm my son."

"Then help us work out what actually happened."

"How can I do that when everything I remember seems to be wrong?" It was the miserable truth, and Draco didn't bother to try and hide his upset.

"Let's start with something we're fairly certain about then," Potter reassuringly said.

"What?"

"The tree."

"That bloody tree again!"

"No, the one you disposed of. You remember decorating it now, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Let's assume that was a real memory that you'd somehow forgotten. Maybe there's a reason for that. Did anything stand out?"

Draco hesitated. "He made a sound."

"Scorpius?"

"Yes. He's refused to speak ever since his mother... but that day he made an involuntary sound."

"Why?"

"I put up his mother's glass angel."

Potter scratched down a few notes. "I take it that has special meaning."

"Yes." Draco smiled wistfully. "It's been in her family for ages. It's said that when it breaks, the family line will run out of luck."

"I imagine it's been the source of a few quick _Reparos_ then."

"Oh, no. It's impervious."

Potter stopped scratching and gave Draco a mildly sardonic look. "Your family really loves making things impervious."

"In my defence, this one was on her family. But yes. We used to joke that we could magically raze our home and everything and everyone in it, but the Christmas tree with its glass angel would still stand."

"So your son reacted to seeing it?"

"Yes. He's loved that angel since he was a baby. Every year his mother would lift him up and together they would look at it while having whispered conversations. This year... was difficult."

"I understand. Did he do anything else?"

"No, he left."

"Hmm." Potter put down his quill. "I have to be honest with you, Malfoy. This isn't looking good. Your son is missing, that is a confirmed fact, and your testimonies are full of holes and inconsistencies."

"I'm _trying_."

"What's so important about that memory, Malfoy?" Potter leant forward, staring Draco right in the eye.

Again Draco heard a deafening crash. _No..._ "I... I don't know..."

"I honestly don't think you're trying very hard."

"I don't want..."

"You don't want what? To find your son?"

"I-I..." Draco's eyes welled up and he began having a hard time breathing. "I want nothing more than that!"

The observer cleared her throat.

Potter visibly backed off, leaning back. "Let's take a break."

 

***

 

A deafening crash woke Draco and he jumped to his feet, eyes wild and heart pounding.

It took him a moment to register where he was. He was still in the little interrogation room, and as he'd jumped up, he'd turned over his chair. The dour observer was sitting in her chair, peacefully knitting, and Potter was sitting at the other side of the table, his head on his fist, watching Draco.

Draco noted that Potter's case file had grown thicker. That couldn't be a good thing.

"Sorry," he muttered, righting his chair and sitting back down.

"Are these nightmares a common occurrence?" Potter asked.

Draco shrugged. "What did you find?" He motioned towards Potter's file.

Potter's face turned grim.

Draco's heart felt like it would stop beating.

_No._

"Blood." Potter finally said. "We found blood in your main hall."

Draco felt like he might be physically sick.

_No, it can't be._

"But that could've got there in any number of ways, right? A cut, some old injury. It's a very old house."

Potter slowly shook his head. "I wouldn't have told you this if we weren't sure. It's blood, it's your son's, and it... doesn't look good."

The ache in Draco's chest turned into tangible pain. "No, th-that can't... that can't be what happened."

_Please no._

"What happened with the tree, Malfoy?"

"It... it all came crashing down."

 

***

 

_Draco was tidying the lounge a bit to keep his hands occupied. He was nearing the end of his rope with Scorpius. The boy needed something that Draco couldn't give. Perhaps spending some time with his Aunt Daphne could help. It would be worth a shot after the holidays._

_Draco gazed out into the main hall and nearly got a heart attack. His little son had pulled a chair up to the tall Christmas tree, and on that chair he'd balanced a hat box, some pillows, and a stool in order to gain the height he would need. He was standing on top of this arrangement and leaning into the tall tree in order to reach the glass angel._

_Just as Draco saw him, Scorpius lost his balance. Not only that, but everything slipped sideways from under him and he made a wild grab for the tree, pulling it with him. Draco let out a bellow and started running towards his son, firing off a couple of spells to keep the tree from falling and to cushion his son. Alas, in his panic he'd forgotten that the tree was impervious, so both spells missed, and everything came crashing down._

_That sound. He would never forget that sound._

_He dashed forward and hauled the tree off Scorpius, but he was lying still. Unnaturally so. Draco reached down and attempted to shake him awake. No luck. Scorpius's little head lolled, and that's when Draco saw the blood. So much blood. His little boy had hit his head on the edge of the chair coming down._

_Draco let out a hoarse cry and tried to find a pulse, a breath, anything, but his frantic efforts yielded no results._

_His son was gone._

 

***

 

Draco stared ahead in shock, his nails digging into his palms so hard it bled.

_No..._

Potter sighed. "What did you do with his body, Malfoy?"

"But it was just a dream," Draco muttered. "That was just a dream. A terrible nightmare."

"I'm afraid not."

"It had to be. When I came back he wasn't there. So it all had to be a dream."

"Came back from what?"

"The tree... I couldn't bear to look at it. I had to get it away from him. It was hurting him."

"So you remember getting rid of it now?"

"Yes, but it was just a dream."

Potter didn't answer, just stared down at his hands.

Draco went from wild panic and overwhelming grief to the strangest sensation of only being a spectator to what was happening. There was a sense of calm in that that he clung onto.

"It wasn't a dream," he finally said. "Scorpius fell and hit his head."

Potter nodded.

"But then he was gone."

"Gone where?"

"Gone... I don't know. Who took my son, Potter? I want him back."

"I think you'll find that nobody took your son, Malfoy."

"But the crashing has stopped."

"What do you mean?"

"I remember everything now. But he's gone, Potter, he's gone. He still needs to be found."

Potter gave him a long, sympathetic look. "We'll find him. But just so we're clear on the sequence of events here, first your son climbed a chair with a pile of things on it in order to reach a decoration."

"Yes."

"Then his makeshift ladder failed him and he fell down, taking the tree with him and hitting his head."

Draco nodded.

"You rushed to his side, but there were no signs of life and stricken by grief you removed the offending tree from your home."

"It made more sense at the time."

"When you came back, your son had disappeared and in your state of sleep-deprivation and trauma, you decided it had all just been a bad dream."

A brief stab of pain pierced Draco's calm before he could reclaim it. "I'm a terrible father, aren't I? How could I forget? How could I lose him?"

Potter shook his head. "No, you were the victim of deeply tragic and traumatic events. Your mind tried to protect you."

"Protect _me_? How about protecting _him_?"

Potter didn't seem to have an answer for that.

There was a soft knock on the door, and then Granger entered and handed some documents to Potter. All the while she avoided looking at Draco.

"It's okay," Draco said, clinging onto his detached calm. "I know what happened now."

She made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a strangled sob and avoided his gaze even harder. That was strange, he thought. He supposed she was an empathic person, but this hardly seemed professional.

Potter looked at the new information and blanched. "God..." he muttered, fisting his hands in his hair as if he were tempted to pull it out.

Draco felt numb. Whatever it said on there, it couldn't be worse than what Draco had already been forced to acknowledge. His son was dead. Who cared what else had happened?

"You found him?" he asked.

"... Yes," Potter finally said after a long pause. "We found him."

"Where?"

Granger was pressing a fist against her mouth as if this was all too much.

"With his mother," Potter said, an odd hesitation in his voice. "You buried him with his mother."

"Oh. That makes sense. I would." Draco had no recollection of doing so, but if they said he did, then it was probably true. He'd forgotten so many things.

"You neglected to inform the proper authorities and for that you will be looking at punishment."

Draco shrugged. They could lock him up and throw away the key. He didn't care. He'd lost everything he had to live for. Now living was just another chore that had to be done. Preferably inside this calm.

"I will recommend a stay at St Mungo's until such a time where you are fully recovered from your insomnia, hallucinations and... other problems. Do you agree?"

Draco shrugged again. "Fine, sure."

Potter nodded and the dour woman got up to knock at the door, where a couple of Aurors were waiting to take Draco away.

Draco went willingly, never looking back.

 

***

 

Harry's legs all but collapsed after Malfoy had been escorted out and he practically fell back into his chair.

"Why did you lie to him?" Hermione asked.

Harry sighed. "Look at him. He's already so broken, what wouldn't the truth do to him? And it won't make any difference anyway."

Hermione nodded and sat down in the observer's chair. "I can't believe it, though..."

"I know." Harry shoved away the file, unable to find a proper way to vent his own grief and frustration at how this little boy's life had needlessly ended.

Malfoy's recollection of his son falling held true to evidence.

And so did the boy's disappearance.

Harry had meant it when he'd said he'd seen stranger accidental magic than a boy accidentally Disapparating somewhere, but a presumably unconscious boy Disapparating to his mother's side...

His dead mother's side.

The crypt hadn't been opened, they'd confirmed. The dust hadn't been disturbed. He'd made a perfect Apparition into his mother's coffin.

Harry shook his head. "He must've regained consciousness, if only a bit. Enough to register the pain and wanting his Mum..."

"There's no evidence of him being conscious while... after his Apparition," Hermione said. "If he had, he would've been likely to panic and..." she couldn't even finish the thought but cleared her throat. " _If_ he regained consciousness, he likely passed right back out."

Harry nodded. But the kid had still needlessly suffocated. Who knew if he could've been healed? Looking at the information given to him, Harry couldn't even tell if he would still have been alive or dead when this investigation started.

"The state Malfoy was in, though. He could barely tell dream from reality. He said he'd have buried his son with the boy's mother. What if he had? What if he had buried his own son alive? That child never stood a chance."

Hermione put a hand on his arm. "We have to let this go or it'll eat us up."

Harry nodded and slowly got up.

"Where are you going?"

"To buy my kids some extra Christmas presents. Lots of them."

Hermione nodded. "I'll go with you. Right after I go home to hug mine."

"Sounds like a plan."

He shuffled together all the case documents, including one picture of a little boy lying perfectly still next to his mother's remains while clutching a broken glass angel.

 

 


End file.
